Slayer, tomorrow
by mefnord
Summary: During Season 4, Buffy has to vampsit a recently chipped Spike. UST ensues!


Title: Slayer, tomorrow  
Author: mefnord  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy  
Rating/Warnings: PG13 - rather fluffy  
Timeline/Spoilers: AU Season 4, before Something Blue  
Summary: Buffy has to vampsit a recently chipped Spike over the weekend. UST ensues!  
Length: 13,153 words gulp  
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. Not even one of them.  
Feedback: The good and the bad, I take it all.  
  
A/N: The biggest and hugest smooches to my beta flurblewig! She has been indefinitely patient with me, the grammatically challenged, and I do love her so for it!  
Also thanks to nikitangel for letting me borrow her words of genius. Her generosity towards mankind is unending

* * *

"But _Xander_ - "

Buffy couldn't believe that she was actually having this conversation. She should have ignored the phone. Why hadn't she ignored the stupid phone?  
  
"No, Buff, you _are_ going to take him. There's no one else."  
  
"But, why do you have to go? Pff, romantic weekend, that's so old-coupley ...and besides, Mom isn't here this weekend. And I can't just let him stay in the house all by himself."  
  
"Exactly my argument. I don't want him staying in my basement while Anya and I are away. It might be dank and dark, but it's mine and I don't want to find it trashed when we get back. Or robbed of the few valuables I own, for that matter. You, on the other hand, are spending this weekend at home - so he won't be in the house by himself, will he?"  
  
"Willow told you? That little traitor! Uh. Oh, got it! Giles! He's stayed with Giles before."  
  
"I tried Giles. He said he'd done more than his fair share of Spike duty already. But he cannot be left unsupervised, because, hello, vampire. Evil. So there you go."  
  
Buffy glared at the phone. She for sure didn't want to play vampsitter for Spike, not even for three days. Especially not so that Xander and Anya could go to the Big Sur for the weekend. Not fair. She never got to do any coupley stuff.  
  
"You're only going away to get rid of him, aren't you? That is so low of you. You can't just push him around to suit yourself, pass him on to new people when you don't have the time for him, and -"  
  
"Buffy, he's not a puppy, he's a vampire! We can shove him around all we want, we are not exactly going to hurt his feelings. It's fun! Look, be a good Slayer and take him. You might even get to dust him, if he doesn't behave."  
  
"Fine, on behalf of the chance that he'll misbehave, bring him over."  
  
Buffy pouted at the phone.  
  
There went her plans for the evening. Friday night and she had wanted to go a-Bronzeing with Willow. Now she was stuck with Spike. Maybe she could just chain him up in the basement?  
  
Worrying her lower lip, she wondered if the information he supposedly had was really worth anything at all. Being a Slayer sucked hard sometimes. She felt irrationally bad about killing something that couldn't even hit back. Darn. Where was the perky social life that she should be having, being a college student and all? She realized that she was still holding the receiver in her hand. Angrily, she slammed it down.  
  
"I'll be damned if I stay at home tonight! Me and Willow need cheering up after that stupid mid-term exam, yes, we do...."  
  
She would think of a way to make it work while she got ready. Still more stomping than walking she went upstairs to apply some make-up and pick something to wear...Something that would make her beautiful and stunning and a guy magnet. That jerk Parker would soon regret dumping her. He would suffer and he would hurt and he would never live it down. Because she was the most desirable woman on campus! He would be there tonight, wouldn't he? Although Riley was a nice enough guy -well, really really really nice, actually - Parker's rejection still stung. Wounded pride didn't heal with enhanced Slayer speed, it seemed.  
  
Buffy was still mulling over wardrobe choices when she heard Xander's voice.  
  
"Hey, Buffy, are you up there?"  
  
She went downstairs with her arms folded.  
  
"I though about bailing on you, I have to tell you...."  
  
"Naw, you'd never do that." With that, Xander handed her the bag he had been holding onto.  
  
"Here's his stuff. Some blood and the other shirt he owns. And I packed the book he's reading, to keep him occupied..."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "I hope he is housetrained...did you bring a leash? I could use one of those with him!"  
  
"Yes, he can use the bathroom by himself now, but the concept of not leaving wet towels on the floor still escapes him." Xander replied.  
  
"Well, there will be no showering at my place! At my place, no naked Spike, oh no. Wait a sec - " Buffy went all wide eyed, "do vampires really use the bathroom? Does he? What would.....Oh, majorly ew, because, ew..."  
  
"See, fun things to find out on a weekend with a vampire!" Xander crunched up his nose. "He's probably still sulking in the car. He hates this idea as much as you do, you know."  
  
"And I'll hate you for it for ever...or at least until you build me a pretty new drawer for my dorm," Buffy said, smiling sweetly up at Xander.  
  
"Hey, if it were up to me, he'd be gone with the wind by now! I'll think about the drawer, though...," he replied, as he turned to get Spike out of the car.

ooooo

"I don't wanna be here," was the first thing he said after Xander had dragged him onto the porch.

"That works out well then, because I don't want to have you here," Buffy spat at him. Then she was gone. Back inside the house, without so much as a glance in his direction.  
  
Spike contemplated doing a runner. The only problem was, right now those stupid Scoobies were his only blood supply. Stealing blood bags from Willy´s or the butchers´ wasn't an option, not if he wanted to stay on the customer lists. He'd nicked some money from the Watcher and from the boy, but human blood was expensive and he was sick of the other stuff they fed him. Kept a bloke alive it did, but that was just about it. Well, there was no denying it, unless he found a way to make money that didn't involve honest work or hurting humans he might as well take what he got from those wankers. That was why he was still standing in front of that bloody door. Free pig's blood. Maybe it was him who was the real wanker.  
  
He had been standing outside for quite a while now - because no one had invited him in. Dumb bint had forgotten about the bloody invitation. Although... he had been to her house before, at that time of the stupid truce and after. Could it be that she had been dense enough to not de-invite him after he had kidnapped the witch? Tentatively he reached with his hand across the threshold. No barrier. He could go in all right. His eyes turned yellow - instead of lurking in the shadows at the college he could have just gotten her here, in her home? Any time he wanted. The irony of it was sickening. He was in the right mind to -

ooooo  
  
"Come," Buffy said as she passed him, not even noticing that he was all fangy. She had been thinking about how to do this while Spike had been waving his hand across the threshold like a idiot. She had to get to the Bronze - she needed some much needed Willow-time, dancing fun and to get the message across that she was so over Parker. She sort of knew he would be there. She also knew that that was probably the only real reason why she wanted to go so badly. To rebound right in front of him. Dancing the dance of a brave little toaster. If that entailed taking Spike, well, then so be it. Besides, Willow could help watching him. It was only fair after her back-stabbing actions of telling Xander that she was at home this weekend.  
  
"What?" Spike interrupted her musings.  
  
"I am going out. You come with. Not my choice."  
  
"And why would I want to go with you, Slayer? I mean I love the prospect of watching you making a fool of yourself in that outfit, but..."  
  
"What's wrong with the outfit?"  
  
Buffy looked down at herself. She was wearing skin-tight red leather trousers she had bought in L.A. last summer, almost-sensible black leather boots and a black, lacy halter - top... _why do I even listen to that brainless undead?_  
  
Spike only chuckled.  
  
"Okay, stay then. I'll bind you and gag you in the basement and if you're lucky I'll check on you on Sunday..."  
  
"Be nice, Summers, or I'll never tell how to get into the commando base unnoticed."  
  
"You know, I'm not even sure you've got any information. The way I see it, you've already told us everything and are just staying for the free blood. Which is pretty pathetic, if you think about it...so come with me and behave yourself, or no blood tonight."

* * *

"Oi, Slayer, where to?" Spike despised himself for it, but he did follow her. Her ass looked nice enough in that red piece of hers to justify the decision, although he'd never admit it to her. Or himself, for that matter. Not openly anyway.  
  
"Quick sweep of Shady Hills. Then Bronze. Strictly speaking, none of your business."  
  
Her answer stopped him short in his tracks.  
  
"You mean, you want to go and kill my kind?"  
  
"The kind that sucks people dry? Yeah, that's pretty much my job description," Buffy answered without even slowing down. She was nearly jogging by now and Spike was just angry enough to fall effortlessly into step with her.  
  
"Bugger this, Slayer, I'm not going to tag along while you're on patrol. They'll think I'm in league with you, helping you! I've got a reputation to maintain!"  
  
"They won't live to tell the tale. Now stop being such a baby and come on, I'm late already!"

ooooo

Five minutes later the Slayer glared at a group of vampires that had gathered around a fresh grave. Right, this couldn't be one of those unexplainably slow nights when vampires and demons alike took a night off? Noo, some kind of self-help group for the freshly risen had to hold its meeting tonight.  
  
"To quip or not to quip?" Buffy murmured under her breath. No, better go with the surprise here, she so didn't have time for a stagy see-what-I-can-do fight. Also, the vampires were pretty intent on the grave so she might just stand a chance to kill more than one before they noticed her. Silently she put down her purse and with practised Slayer stealth approached the group with her stake at the ready. Just before she could plunge it into the really bulky vampire that she had marked as her first, a voice from behind her called out: "Mate, watch it...Slayer from behind!"  
  
Stupid Spike! She had forgotten all about him. Damn, she was so going to kick his ass after this. Before the vampire in front of her could really react, she plunged the stake into his heart. Maybe the advantage of surprise was gone, but she had Slayer strength and time pressure on her side. She really needed this to end quickly. Luckily, they all still had the mud from crawling out of their grave beneath their fingernails, so to speak. Whatever strength they possessed wasn't from experience but from number. With a quick glance she determined that number to be ten, at least. Doable, but it would take time. And she would have to try not to step into the new grave, because that would ruin her shoes.  
  
Okay, on with the fight then.  
  
As number four crumbled into nothingness, the rest of them backed up a little, so that Buffy was able to sneak a look at her watch. Damn, she had never realized how really long slaying took. Annoyance led to a strange realization...it would be way faster if....  
  
"Spike, get over here and help me!"  
  
Since the seven vampires were still mostly growling at her, Buffy risked a look around for the vampire she wanted to kill the most.  
  
He was sitting on a nearby crypt, happily munching away on some chips he had produced out of his duster. God, she really hated him.  
  
"No can do, love. You might get killed yet and I do want to enjoy the show without any distractions, thanks."  
  
Now, she was pissed. Angrily, she staged a launch against the nearest vampire, staking him mid-growl. That caused the other vampires to close in on her.  
  
"Newsflash, guys. I'm the Slayer. You might want to rethink what you're doing right now."  
  
They only stared at her blankly. Too young to know any better. Young and time consuming.  
  
"So, you want to do it the hard way, then..."

ooooo

Spike grinned, positively elated by the view. "Someone is in trouble..." he sing-songed to himself as he watched the Slayer slowly backing up against the crypt he was sitting on. Using the wall to cover her back, she let the remaining vampires come to her. Now she grabbed one and shoved him forcefully against the others. It confused them enough for her to drive another two stakings home fairly easily.  
  
Where she stored all that stakes in that skin-hugging outfit of hers was a puzzle to Spike. She had lost at least two of them with the first vampires she had dusted. The current stake in use she always withdrew before the actual dusting took place, so maybe it was her last one. Four vampires were still standing and he could see that one of them actually knew his business. Or maybe he had been into martial arts when alive. Stuffing another chip in his mouth, he was interrupted in his contemplations by the Slayer, who was yelling something.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'll buy you a beer."  
  
"Sounds lovely, pet, but I can't hurt a living being, remember?"  
  
"They are not exactly alive, are they?"  
  
Spike, slayer of the Slayers, William the bloody muzzled sat on his crypt and thought about that. She might be right. Yesterday he had kicked a dead cat that happened to be in his way and _that_ hadn't hurt a bit. Although Harris´s unasked-for display of sadness over some unknown, very dead cat had been quite painful. Technically, vampires were just as dead. Hell, he might as well try.  
  
He jumped down on the far side of the crypt and strolled slowly around to the fight, arriving at the back of the remaining vampires. He picked up a broken piece of a branch that was lying on the ground and cautiously aimed it at the heart of one of them. They still had not noticed him, or otherwise thought he was one of them. Steeling himself for the pain, he raised the makeshift stake and crushed it through the back of the vamp, straight into its heart. As the vamp turned to dust, Spike let go of the stake, automatically clutching his hands to his head. But nothing. No twinge, no pang, no stab...and certainly no searing pain. He threw back his head and roared, changing into his vampire face.  
  
Epiphany; and only two vamps left. At least the good one was among them.  
  
The next two minutes were the shortest of his unlife. Vampires were just too vulnerable for a decent fight, they dusted too easily for his taste. Even the more experienced one wasn't up to more than a couple of kicks to the head and a few punches in the stomach... so much for martial arts.  
  
"Slayer, hand us the stake, will ya?" Spike was holding onto the last vampire, happily pummelling away. Rolling her eyes, Buffy handed over the requested item.  
  
"You know, for someone who was all Vampires ´R´ Us just half an hour ago, you look awfully cheerful while killing your own kind," she said.  
  
"Suddenly, I've got this strange impulse of saving the world and all...aren't there any baddies left?"

ooooo

Spike slowly stood, patting his duster to remove the remains of the vampires, all the while looking around for more victims. None to see. His human features were up front now and so Buffy could see disappointment creeping over his face. He even stuck out his lower lip, just a manly little bit.  
  
_Spike, pouting? Looks almost cute, sort of..._flicked across her mind before she could stop herself.  
  
She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to get rid of her non sequitur thought. Didn't work too well, though; the thought, once it had been mentally uttered, seemed to stick to her brain like a post-it.  
  
As she opened her eyes, she saw Spike engaged in an action that removed him from anywhere near cute. The fresh grave that she had been avoiding was giving birth to a new vampire and Spike was playing midwife...he had grabbed the hands of the vampire and with one great heave had pulled his torso out of the earth. Now the new one was stuck and Spike currently had stopped his slapping and slicing because he was looking for a stake. Nothing resembling a threat to vampires was lying in his vicinity. With a malicious grin, Spike changed into game face again, grabbed the head of his victim and leisurely twisted it around, inch by inch...The vamp started to scream, a screeching noise that hurt her ears. Apparently Spike's ears hurt as well, because all of a sudden he strained his muscles and ripped off the head, as if it was the cork of a bottle of wine that had been stuck.  
  
"Stop that blare, wussy."  
  
The vampire obliged, turning into a shower of dust.  
  
"Geez, Spike, disgusting much?"  
  
"I am evil, bitch! Would help if you'd remember that from time to time."  
  
"Spike, the evil bitch?" Buffy helplessly burst into a fit of giggles.  
  
She never noticed that Spike lashed violently out at her, ready to kill. He was rewarded with a killer headache, as usual. Blithely, she glanced around a last time and turned to leave. Hopefully Willow wouldn't be too angry at her tardiness. On the other hand, she did have a good excuse.  
  
"You know, if it weren´t for that beer you promised me I'd never come with," Spike grumbled.  
  
"Well, if you try anything at all, you'll be dust. You won't threaten any one, you won't even talk to any one...oh, and you'll sleep in the basement tonight. "  
  
Their voices faded and the cemetery returned to its deceiving peacefulness.

* * *

_"It's stupid, we should have walkie-talkies or pagers or something. How can you fight the forces of the underworld if you don't even have the means to call your fellow Scoobies? At least we should have a dog,"_ Willow thought, while frantically weaving her way through the throngs of people that populated the Bronze tonight. It seemed that every single college student had decided to celebrate mid-terms at their old high school hangout. Since when was the Bronze popular with the college crowd? And where was Buffy? She felt tears prickling behind her eyes. Everything was horrible, worse than ever imagined. Plus, she was thinking incoherent thoughts.  
  
"Oh, Buffy, thank God, there you are," Willow cried as she spotted her friend. "I, I was looking all over for you..."  
  
Buffy interrupted her, "I know, I'm sorry Will, but there were all those..." but before she could finish her sentence she noticed the tears that were streaming down Willow's cheeks. "Willow, hey, I know I'm late..."  
  
Willow hardly listened, though.  
  
"...because I really needed to go and I couldn't without telling you first and you weren't here, or... or... I couldn't find you anyways, and then everything went real bad," she choked out.  
  
"Bad? Bad how? Vampire bad? Apocalypse-y bad?"  
  
"No, the music!!!"  
  
"O-kay. No Slaying-related badness then. I'm relieved, I guess. Only, I'm kinda not, because what's with the tears? And the music?" Buffy knitted her brows in confusion. The music sounded okay to her. Kind of familiar. Quite good actually. And then it hit her.  
  
"Oh, Willow, I'm so sorry. I didn't know that the Dingoes are still playing, oh, I should've never suggested coming here tonight," she said, hugging her friend tightly. She had never thought about what might have happened to Oz´s band after he had left Sunnydale. Although she should have, as it turned out. Darn.  
  
"S´not your fault. They re-named themselves. Tasmanian Devils Ate My Popcorn. Or something like that. Buff, I need to get out of here, really, now."  
  
"Of course, lets go!" Buffy turned on her heel, but Willow tugged at her sleeve.  
  
"Really, I'd rather go alone. I think I need some quality wallowing. Me, VanillaCaramelBrownie-Dazs, Celine and my Pooh the Bear pyjamas. Please?"  
  
Buffy looked her up and down, narrowing her eyes and puckering up her mouth. Willow could see the thought process behind her eyes. Buffy looked as if she didn't like the idea of Willow wallowing. Or wallowing Willow. And Buffy did love VanillaCaramelBrownie.  
  
"Will, I think you need some girlfriendy time, don't you?"  
  
Willow shook her head. Even this discussion took too long, she wanted to get out of the Bronze, away from the music and she wanted, needed to be alone. Buffy seemed unusually determined to be a good best friend tonight, right now, when she couldn't stand the thought of seeing anyone who had known Oz. Oh, and now that sounded as if he wasn't there anymore. Like, on the planet. She swallowed. Out. Of. Here. Now. Away from the music. How could she get Buffy to leave her alone?  
  
In that moment she noticed for the first time that Buffy herself wasn't alone. Right, she had all but forgotten that Buffy was on Spike duty tonight. That would surely do as valid obstacle to girly stuff?  
  
"No, I need alone time! Me time. Besides, you got Spike."  
  
"I haven't got Spike!"  
  
"She ain´t got me!"  
  
Both of them objected in chorus.  
  
"I can always put him in the tub, really," Buffy said to Willow.  
  
"I'm more than happy to sod off," Spike said to no one in particular.  
  
And again with the simultaneousity. Weird, that. To hear them thus in sync one might get the idea that they were a couple. Which, okay, absurd, but leading to another brilliant idea.  
  
"But, Buff, Parker's here. In fact, he's right behind you. If you left now, he'll think that he still bugs you enough for you to leave. Which you don't want him to think. So if you stay you get him not thinking thoughts he shouldn't think and I get time alone to think my own thoughts and then two flies with one strike or something and tomorrow we can wallow together and I'm going now and I will be all right so don't worry. Oh, and bye Spike." With a quick peck on Buffy's cheek, meant to be reassuring, she disappeared before her friend could process all the information given.  
  
Buffy slowly turned towards Spike, realizing that they were more or less on their own now.  
  
He was making a face as if he had just witnessed the gruesome decapitation of a fluffy bunny. Only, him being a vampire and all, he would probably enjoy watching that, so...  
  
"Lovely display of female affection, there," he said, paused, then added: "Bird sure talks a lot, doesn't she. Even when depressed. Right, what about my beer, then?"  
  
"Depressed, you think Willow is depressed? A little down maybe, blue, sad, yes, but depressed?" Buffy asked.  
  
Spike just snorted. "Well, you gits sure are best friends. Now hand us a tenner and I'll get me some drink. You can go and moon over college boy. Maybe figure out why you didn´t get a second go."  
  
Buffy winced at that. So he had picked up on who Parker was. Great. This whole evening was the worst kind of awful. And there really was no way to go now without Parker noticing her early exit. She felt a lot like stomping her foot. And it was all stupid Spike's fault. If he wasn't chipped he'd still try to kill her instead of scrounging beer and blood from her and everything would be just fine. And Willow would be here with her and fun would be had, because Oz´s stupid band wouldn't be playi- okay, that one probably wasn't Spike's fault. But still, time for an attitude check for the formerly dangerous.  
  
"Look, Spike. Me, Slayer. You, Slayee. Me, going to have fun tonight. You, be good and you'll get your nightly cup of blood later. So, Diet Coke for me," she said.  
  
He started to say something, but thought better of it and took the offered money instead, stalking off in the direction of the bar.  
  
Buffy let out a sigh and went in search of a table.  
  
A little bit later Slayer and Slayee sat opposite each other at a table that was located near the pool tables, just underneath the staircase that led up to the balcony of the Bronze. In front of the sullen vampire stood two bottles of Budweiser, in front of the Slayer a tiny glass of coke. In the middle of the table an innocent looking basket full of chicken wings, fries, and onions was located. It had nearly been the downfall of Spike. Because of the food there hadn't been enough money to buy a drink of sufficient size for the Slayer. Only the masses of people surrounding them, one of them nearly a former love interest of the Slayer, had saved his neck.  
  
Now the two had resolved themselves to exchanging withering looks. And some good glaring. Add in an icy cold stare and a lot of the not-comfortable kind of silence and fun was thoroughly not had.  
  
Spike finally broke all that taciturnity: "I hate you," he stated, matter-of-factly.  
  
"Great, because I hate you, too," Buffy answered, shifting a little bit on her stool so that she could get a better view of Parker.  
  
Watching him like this she realized that the guy actually wasn't all that dreamy. She wasn't even sure anymore if he had been a good rebound, if it had been a rebound she was looking for, back then. Compared to Riley he was only a tiny, smarmy, non-TA college boy. Which made her only hate it all the more that this nothingness of a guy had not wanted her beyond that one night. On the other hand now she did have her rebound guy and Riley could be, like, the second relationship. Minus the angsty bits of the first one. Hmmm...Riley.

ooooo

Opposite her Spike was fidgeting in his seat. Free beer and food aside, he hated to not talk, to not fight, to just sit and mull over things. Hated it because he wasn't a bleeding brooding poof like Angel. Even this opportunity to study the Slayer in detail had lost some of its appeal since he couldn't touch her without his head being split in thousand little shards of pain. Even more annoying were the little thoughts that crept in and told him how her lips would feel on his. He Her very unbloodied lips. Very alive lips. He had no idea were this thoughts came from, but they were undeniably there. Maybe the chip was doing that to him? Anyway, it wouldn't do to just sit here and wait until the Slayer declared that she had now spend enough time staring at that whelp over at the pool table. Idly sitting opposite the Slayer made his head hurt - only not because he was having fantasies about her dead and mangled body at his feet, but because he wasn't. Very unmanly. And un - evil. Wrong it was. Just bloody wrong.

ooooo

"Hey, Slayer. Let's play." He nodded towards the pool table.  
  
"Huh?" Buffy's mind tried to make sense of the fact that someone was talking to her. She had been wholly intend on Parker's new way to pass the time. He and his guys were watching girls on the dance floor. She saw them pointing at a plump brunette, making faces and finally giving her the thumb down. Unbelievable!  
  
"You, me, pool? Have a game at it. Vampire versus Slayer. S' better than just sitting around."  
Already taking a deep breath of a utter disgust at that very absurd idea, Parker caught her attention again. The jerk was actually playing his dead-father-routine for a mousy blonde girl. All puppy eyes and sad posture and she was sure she had caught the words "live for the now" across the din. How could anyone fall for that? Ah, too much thinking -  
  
maybe pool wasn't that bad an idea. She grinned. She wasn't that bad at the game... Lots of practice in L.A., in Hank's house, during boring summers with her ever-busy father. The situation offered showing off in front of Parker and beating Spike. Could be a good substitute for not being allowed to kill him. Besides, she was bored. But then it would probably mean that she would actually have to interact with the vampire. It might even look like they were on a date. Buffy chewed on her lower lip. Nothing said I'm over you like a date. But Spike?.  
  
For the first time in, well, very nearly ever, Buffy really looked at Spike. She noticed that he did have a very nice body, objectively speaking. The duster lay discarded on a stool and for once he wasn't wearing his red shirt, so that she could see that the standard black t-shirt was tight enough to show his abs. Hm. Also? Good arms. It looked like he had taken up the mascara again, and it didn't look half bad. If you were into the gothic look. Yeah, he might do as a make-believe date. In comparison to Parker, he was a hunk.  
  
Guh, stupid thoughts again!  
  
"Slayer, hello! " Spike snapped his fingers in front of her face.  
  
Guiltily, she tore her gaze from his body and headed in direction of the pool table, so that he wouldn't see her thoughts written on her face. Poker would never be her game.

* * *

As Spike set up the balls, Buffy pondered the weirdness that was her life. Shooting pool with a vampire on Saturday night, while her - whatever Parker was to her - sat nearby, flirting with another girl.  
It kinda made her miss the easiness that high school had been.  
  
_Give me a pack of hyenas or fishy-boys everyday, instead of all of this._  
  
Mentally she included everything that had happened since she started college: Sunday, Parker, room mates from hell or some other dimension, not-so-purposeful Giles and Xander...  
  
And added the sight of Spike putting some money on the ledge of the pool table to that. He wanted to play her for money he had probably stolen from her Watcher? Oh well, she would just have to win it back for him then. Right now she felt too weirded out to care.  
  
She strutted towards the table and took the first shot. With a loud clatter the balls scooted everywhere - maybe she should take down the Slayer strength a notch and go for more precision instead? At least one of the balls had found his way into a pocket. Shrugging at her first clumsy attempt she aimed for the next shot.

ooooo

At the opposite side of the table Spike smirked. The Slayer was apparently going to actually play him for money - she had just now started to shoot and none too well. It seemed a little out of character, he had expected at least a cutting remark, but she hadn't said a word, for quite a while now, in fact.  
  
Bloody hell, a subdued Slayer wasn't any fun at all. Not that she was ever any real fun, but he felt entitled to a few insults at least.  
  
As he watched her stalking around the table, trying to find the best position for her shot, he noticed that her glance again and again found its way towards this Parker guy.  
  
Spike half raised one of his eyebrows, taking a closer look at the guy who had been the successor of the poofster. He hadn't paid much attention the last two times he had met him, which he now realized had been a mistake. What a waste of excellent taunting material. The whelp was the human equivalent to a Chaos demon - minus the antlers, but lots of slime. Smarmy. The way he was furrowing his eyebrows at the bint next to him, all sincere eyes and serious expressions, he was probably spinning some sad tale of a puppy lost to get her into his bed. And the Slayer had fallen for that? Obviously not one of the brightest tools in the box, she was, but then again, she had already proven that when she had fallen for the mighty broody one. He would have to remember to tell Angel about Parker, should he ever meet him again. Wouldn't hurt to also mention just how shortly after his departure the Slayer had parted her knees for someone else.  
  
That someone else currently had stopped talking to the girl next to him and instead had set his beady eyes upon the Slayer. Spike followed his gaze and only now realized that she was hardly concentrating on the game, but actually posing herself just so that anyone who happened to sit in Parker's direction got an eyeful of her cleavage.  
  
It seemed to work, the boy was obviously considering his chances of getting another poke. Well, he could make that a more interesting challenge for the lad. Moving carefully so that the occupied Slayer wouldn't catch on, Spike sidled next to her, staring at Parker all the while. When he was sure that he was watched he leaned into the still oblivious Buffy, turned his head and slowly mimicked licking her neck.  
  
_Let's see if that bag of slime has the guts to compete against me._

ooooo  
  
Buffy was finally ready to give up on making Parker notice her as she suddenly felt Spike right next to her. More like right upon her. Her shot went wide as she hastily took a step back, glaring at the vampire.  
  
"What the hell do you think you are doing, Spike?"  
  
"Just trying to see what _you_ are doing, pet. Looks like you haven't got a clue about pool," Spike said and raised his eyebrows at her.  
  
"Looks more like you were distracting me," she harrumphed, turning away from him  
  
Only to smack right into Parker.  
  
Dumbstruck, she just stared at him.  
  
"Uh, hi there," he said.  
  
That wasn't the way she had planned this. She had been showing off a little, yeah, but only so that he would feel bad because he had given her the brush-off. And to make him see that now she was here, and desirable, and here - with another guy. Parker was supposed to feel a little jealous and stupid because he had been such an asshole, according to her plan. Instead she now heard him say, and obviously to her,  
  
"Listen, um, considering all the fun we had last time, I thought you might want to hook up again? I could walk you home, you know."  
  
Then he leaned in a little, saying under his breath: "Forget the bleached boy wonder - he's way too old. Unless he's your boyfriend, of course."  
  
For once, Buffy was at a loss for words. She couldn't really punch him, could she? So she just kept staring at Parker, not being able to process his insolence.  
  
"Damn right I'm her boyfriend, so you might reconsider being rude around her," Spike suddenly drawled at her side, "or to me for that matter."  
  
Idly closing in on Parker, drawing himself up to full height, he gave off that predatory vibe that had unnerved her in her first encounters with him. So he could still do that? And: Huh? What was going on here? She felt like in a bad dream. Ex-lover and ex-nemesis, or maybe pretend-date, fighting over her?  
  
Not exactly knowing to whom of the two, she said "You asshole," and stomped off in direction of the dance floor. Maybe not her best exit-line, but it would have to do.  
  
"Oh, well, maybe _he'll_ teach you how to kiss," was the last thing she heard from Parker, who turned back to his girl from before, took her by the arm and dragged her to the exit.  
  
As she submitted herself angrily to the fast beat that the Dingoes, no, Tasmanian Devils, were playing, she wiped away a single tear. She would not cry over that jerk. She could kiss! Angel never had complained, anyway.  
  
When the next, much slower, song started, she felt a little calmer. She closed her eyes and swayed to the music.

ooooo

Spike watched her from the bar.  
  
She was beautiful, dancing in the middle of all those people, slowly gyrating her hips, raising her arms into the air, which made her tits lift in a most favourable way... yes, she was beautiful, but only as beautiful as any other girl, he tried to convince himself. Just another girl that would rightly have been part of the food chain he was the king of.  
  
He wasn't quite sure what just had happened, why he had felt the sudden need to eat that whelp, or maybe to protect her from him.  
  
"Only because I should be the one to hurt her," he murmured, "not some stupid college kid."  
  
He turned to order two bourbons, paid with the money he had laid upon the pool table and then made his way through the mass of bodies, bodies that screamed their blood at him, blood he would never taste again, unless he found a way to drill a whole into his own brain.  
  
She opened her eyes as he held one of the glasses out to her.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Bourbon. You'll like it."  
  
Cautiously she took the glass from him, which was probably an improvement from staking him right away, and took a sip.  
  
"Blch," she said, sticking out her tongue, her face contorted into a grimace.  
  
"I like it," she added, taking another sip with the same results to her face.  
  
"So, what was that all about?"  
  
"I thought I'd seduce you to alcohol and then -"  
  
"No, you know what I mean. Why did you - whatever it was you did, back there?"  
  
"Didn't do much. No need to get all huffy 'bout it. Just didn't want him to interrupt me winning money..."  
  
"You so weren't winning...you haven't even taken one shot yet!" The glass was empty by now.  
  
"But I saw you shoot, didn't I?"  
  
Without really noticing when it had happened, Spike suddenly realized that he was swaying with the music. Close to the Slayer. One could almost say that they were dancing. Together.  
  
They were actually really close, he could feel the Slayer's body only inches away from his, also moving to the music, easily fitting her moves to his, or was it the other way round? His nerves tingled, screamed at him to run away, that he was dangerously close to a Slayer, but at the same time he felt that the danger might not be a deadly one, that it might be lying somewhere else, maybe even in this body, that -  
  
Spike abruptly stopped. This just wouldn't do. The lack of real human blood must be affecting him somehow.  
  
Buffy slowly raised her eyes at him, looking a little confused.  
  
"You know, I'm almost certainly only saying this because of the alcohol, but you dance kinda nicely...," she said. Then, after a beat: "Maybe he's right - maybe I don't kiss well. You know, I haven't kissed that many boys before I went all Chosen-y and only one vampire since then." She pouted.  
  
"I suck at kissing. It's a fact. That's why he..." she didn't finish her sentence.  
  
Spike looked a her lips. Before he could think about what he was doing, he said: "You know, luv, somehow I doubt that you would be a terrible kisser..."  
  
She stared at him, hard, as if awakening from some kind of trance. Then she turned around and stormed away from him, heading straight towards the exit.  
  
Spike sighed.  
  
"Hate you, too, Slayer."

* * *

The alley in front of the Bronze was only sparsely populated when Spike stepped into it. Most people were inside, enjoying the last few songs of the band. A quick glance around him showed him no Slayer in sight. And for the second time - or was it the third? - the excellent opportunity of running away presented itself this evening. The Slayer really didn't take her watching duties seriously. Maybe he should have a word with her Watcher. Spike shrugged and decided that he could always write a postcard from wherever he was going to stay. For now he would just bloody do it and run.  
  
As he turned to go, a couple next to the doors caught his attention - hey, the slime ball had the guts to stay around after he had tried to steal Spike's girl? Well, not his girl, but the girl he pretended was his and anyway, Spike felt decidedly offended. The making out with yet another girl didn't help, either. Spike's eyes flashed yellow. Hell, if it weren't for the chip, the guy would be bleeding to death right now. Or maybe he'd just have a broken neck, because who would drink from a scumbag like him? Either way, he'd be a goner. Pity that he couldn't even so much as twinge Parker's nose. Spike shook off his demon visage. Nothing to be done about that, now.  
  
On the other hand.... A malicious grin spread across his features. Taking on a seductive swagger he strolled over to the kissing pair. They didn't even notice him until he was standing right next to Parker, leaning into him. With his mouth nearly touching the boy's cheek, he said with a voice that sounded as if it was meant to be private, but could be well understood by the girl, making it a voice that was a raw whisper of falling silk: "Play all you want, sweetheart, I don't care; _I_ know where you'll be sleeping tonight."  
  
The girl fairly jumped away from Parker, staring in disbelief.  
  
Not exactly like ripping his arms and legs off, but fun all the same.  
  
The noise of someone running at the far end of the alley made him look up. He was just in time to see a small figure with long blonde hair disappearing around the corner. Shit, Buffy had been there all the time? Did she think he was friends with the ponce?  
  
Sighing, he trotted after her. He'd explain. Although it should've been obvious. Stupid bint.  
  
Before he could analyse why he even felt the need to explain himself, he turned the corner and took in the situation. Buffy had run off, apparently without heeding her surroundings and just now was crossing the street. A huge Mercedes, glistening silvery in the light of the streetlamps, was speeding down the lane, way too fast, but Buffy didn't seem to notice.  
  
_Car, Buffy..._  
  
Drawing on every bit of vampire strength that he possessed, he sped towards her. 

He wasn't sure if he was going to push her or save her.

ooooo

She had stared at Parker, her hands clenching into fists, the nails hurting her where they pressed into the soft skin of her palms. She knew it was beneath her, but all she could think was that it should be her. She should be standing there, necking with Parker, carefree and in love.  
  
Then she saw Spike, saw Spike walking over, no, closing in on Parker and doing something that she couldn't see because he had his back to her. The girl Parker had been with - _not the mousy one_ - jumped away from him and Spike turned with a smirk on his face. He said something, too, but she couldn't hear the words, because she was already running. It seemed all too much, the strange but undeniable closeness on the dancing floor, the humiliation she still felt over Parker and now Spike talking to him and - running away just seemed to be the best course of action.  
  
Just as she was to cross South Avenue she was suddenly forcefully yanked back by her left arm. The momentum propelled her against her assailant and before she could consciously process what was happening her Slayer instincts yelled "vampire" at her. She didn't think about it, her instincts let her reach for the very last stake that she was carrying. Although her body was pressed too close to the vampire for a swift staking, she managed to bring up the weapon with her right arm, pressing it against his heart.  
  
Faintly, she heard a car screeching by, going way too fast and that realization let her pause long enough to take in the fact that the vampire she was currently pressed against was Spike. Spike, whom she wasn't supposed to kill. From so near, she could see the pointy end of her stake making a tiny indentation in the tightly stretched black fabric of Spike's tee-shirt. Just a tiny push...  
  
Spike, probably understanding the danger he was in, had grabbed her right arm in addition to the left one, although he didn't push her away. He stood very still, not moving at all.  
  
This close, his vampire-ness was overwhelming to her senses, making her tingle all over. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that Angel never made her feel that way, she had easily been able to forget that he was a vampire at all. Did the soul make that difference? Or was it because she had been attuned to him, knew how he felt?  
  
"Do it then, luv," Spike said, his voice hoarse.  
  
Neither or them moving, she slowly looked away from the stake and into his eyes. Out here in the street his gaze bore no resemblance to that icy cold blue stare that had threatened her in the beginning . These eyes were darker, more grey than blue and she imagined that she could see raw emotions twirling behind them.  
  
Staring back at her, Spike tightened his grip on her upper arms, drawing her even closer, hurting her a little.  
  
"Do it."  
  
But as she stood there, looking into his eyes, her body pressed against his, she could feel the moment of the possible kill slipping away. She dropped her eyes to the stake again.  
  
And somehow there were suddenly no vampire vibes reaching her anymore, but pure male-ness instead. It made her body tingle all the same.  
  
She could feel the lower part of his body pressed against hers, his belt buckle feeling cold against her skin where her top was bunched up a little at the stomach. Too close. Dangerously close. And yet she knew right then that it wasn't for the information he still kept that she was going to let him live.  
  
Again she looked into his eyes. Maybe a little bit more blue than grey after all. Spike studied her intently, still keeping her close, as if he could read her mind by sheer force.  
  
Then he tilted his head a little closer down to her and whispered, his mouth brushing her temple ever so slightly:  
  
"Trap door in front of Stevenson. Beneath the grass somewhere. Tunnel, goes for 100 yards without any guards. After that, it's Alcatraz."  
  
Buffy stood very, very still. So there it was.  
  
Her stake hadn't left its position above his heart, but now she clutched it even more tightly, her knuckles white from the effort. She could feel the wood cutting into her palm. It would be so easy.  
  
As close as she was to him she became conscious of her breast pressed against his torso, his breathing in perfect sync with hers. Why did he breathe? His right hand had left her arm and had wandered to the small of her back, where it touched bare skin His other hand was still holding her stake arm, but it wasn't a forceful grip anymore. His hands on her skin felt as if they were charged with electricity, a strong current passing from him to her, producing goosebumps and a little unwelcome tingle in her belly.  
  
Her breath took on a hitched forcefulness that she couldn't blame on the shock of being tossed around. Not anymore.  
  
Why didn't she just kill him right now? She stared at the wood in her hand, saw how Xander's big hunting knife had formed it with assured strikes into a deadly weapon - a weapon that only needed a little force from her right arm, right now, to fulfil its purpose. Just a push -  
  
At that moment Spike moved. Just the tiniest little bit, a shift of weight rather than a movement. Or maybe it had been she who had moved? Her eyes widened as she suddenly became aware of the new sensation of his crotch pressing against her. The awareness of this, along with her suspicion that his crotch was probably not always so, uhm, firm, made her a little weak in the knees, along with creating a warm and tingly feeling of _I want to be touched_ in all the wrong places.  
  
"Now, Buffy."  
  
His voice was raw and rasping, a little deeper than usual. All of his cocksure attitude had evaporated. He sounded like he was truly ready to die. Again.  
  
The stake in Buffy's hand clattered onto the pavement, producing a hollow echo in the empty street.  
  
Still, even after the decision she couldn't move away, couldn't get out of what by now most decisively was an embrace of some sorts. How long had they been standing here like this? Her blood raced through her body. What had happened? She honestly didn't know. Why wasn't he dust?  
  
Spike furrowed his brow, moving back a little to look Buffy in the eyes. The shift of bodies again seemed to do things to her.  
  
Catching the look in his eyes, a look that she couldn't even begin to read, she finally, violently, tore herself away from him. Closing her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth as if to say something but instead she bent down to retrieve her stake, pocketed it and, with another glance in Spike's direction, turned around and ran.

* * *

Sitting on the porch of Revello Drive, Spike drew his duster closer around him, patted the pockets for his cigarettes, then lit one and settled down to wait. There was nothing else he could do.  
  
He hardly looked up when the Slayer quietly sat down next to him, hugging her knees. Her hair fell loosely around her face as she looked over to him, and at that moment he thought her truly beautiful. A beauty that didn't come with her being dangerous and lithe and deadly, all attributes he had grudgingly admired in her so far. No, it was the beauty of the woman she was turning out to be that he saw, not the beauty of the Slayer. It was unsettling to be able to see her like this. He went for another cigarette.  
  
"Why do you breathe, Spike?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Habit?"  
  
"After all these years?"  
  
"True. Need it for the smokes, though, don't I?"  
  
She just looked at him.  
  
"Yeah, well, also I blend in better when breathing, makes me less dead," he answered, shifting a little. He wasn't sure what she was after. A tad of research before she killed him after all?  
  
"So it's a predatory thing?"  
  
"Guess so."  
  
"But I've never noticed other vampires doing it," she said.  
  
"Well, guess they don't mingle that much, do they?"  
  
"You've always liked to mingle, though, haven't you?"  
  
Spike just shrugged, at a loss for anything to say. What did she want?  
  
Buffy eyed him, apparently deep in thought. Then she got up with a ghost of a smile. Unlocking the door to her house, she said over her shoulder:  
  
"You can sleep on the couch, Spike."

* * *

Slowly exhaling smoke through his nose, Spike stared at the night sky. He heard Buffy opening the door and entering the house, but for now he just wanted to sit here and finish his cigarette.  
  
What was he going to do? He needed to stay in Sunnydale, near those army guys. They were going to fix him. If they didn't stake him first. Or experiment on him. So he needed to force them to fix him without getting killed or caught while doing so. Might as well try to shake hands with the pope by daylight.  
  
Spike looked at the tip of his cigarette, shrugged and decided to stop thinking. Because right now thoughts would only lead to thinking about how much the Slayer's tight little body might be part of his decision not to run. Or her stupid golden, bouncy hair.  
  
_Good thing I've never been one for the navel-gazing_, he thought as he stomped out the little red light of his cigarette. For now, all he knew was that it could be interesting to stay around the Slayer for a while. Better than roaming the streets, hungry and helpless. Plus, the couch was a real improvement on the tub and that chair of Xander's.  
  
Stepping inside, he saw the Slayer making her way towards the living room with a pile of linens in her arms. Noticing him standing in the doorway, she nodded at him to follow her.  
  
In the living room, she dumped the sheets unceremoniously on the floor.  
  
"There," she said.  
  
"There what?" he replied.  
  
"There sheets. There couch."  
  
Spike bristled, huffing his chest out.  
  
"I'm not going to make the bloody bed"  
  
"Well, I'm not going to, either" Buffy said, drawing herself up to full height and glaring at him dangerously.  
  
Spike poked the pile on the floor with his boot. "I'm not even tired yet...Night's still young and all that."

ooooo

Buffy looked at her watch before she realized that that was pretty close to admitting that Spike might be right. Which he was. Damn, it wasn't even eleven yet. With the slaying and Parker and the running and the - thing between Spike and her in the street she had thought it would be much later.  
  
So, what now? Normally, if she were alone, she'd watch some movie and eat ice cream or something. But what to do with Spike around? Especially a Spike who wasn't going to be locked in the basement?  
  
She looked at him.  
  
He had thrown himself onto the couch, sprawling bonelessly. Buffy tried her best not to look too hard a his crotch. It, he, looked hot.  
  
_No use in denying it. Being objective here. Hot, in a gay poster-calendar kinda way. A gay vampire poster-calendar kinda way. One of those that girls would buy, too. Only that they wouldn't, because there are no hot gay vampire poster-calendars. Because there are no hot vampires. No. Hot. Vampires. Are there gay vampires?_  
  
Her eyes grew big.  
  
_So not going there..._  
  
Turning away from the couch she stormed into the kitchen.  
  
_Need to stop thinking. Objectivity not called for. From now on, I'm Ms. Subjectivity. No hot vampires in my living room, dumdumdum..._  
  
Angry at herself, she opened the fridge door and reached for a bottle of Evian.  
  
"So, what are we goin' to do then?"  
  
Nearly choking on the water she turned around to see Spike leaning against the threshold. Most decoratively.  
  
_No, no decorative leaning. Annoyingly arrogant leaning._  
  
"We? There's no we!"  
  
In a huff she charged past him and threw herself on the couch. Seizing the remote from the coffee table she started to flip channels rapidly. She could feel the vampire hovering somewhere behind her.  
  
"Oh my, you're such a bore, Slayer. Not even 21 yet and sitting here like an old maid, watching the telly..."  
  
"I'm so not a bore. I wanted to see that anyway," Buffy said indignantly, pausing her zapping randomly. The high-pitched voice of an Indian Bollywood diva filled the room.  
  
Spike came over to the couch and raised an eyebrow at her. "That's what you wanted to see?"  
  
"I happen to be known as a great fan of Bollywood," Buffy shot right back.  
  
"Bet you are," Spike grinned.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. Great, everything was back to normal. Instead of being something like half tolerable, Spike had again turned into the annoying pest he had always been. And she would have to suffer through at least another hour of non-existent plot lines and bad singing. And that after she had vowed never to watch Indian movies again. Why hadn't she just said that she was tired? And how came that she was incessantly manoeuvring herself into impossible situations tonight? Damn.

ooooo

The Slayer was sitting with her shoulders drawn up and her jaw clenched. So much for enjoying the movie. Spike grinned to himself, and settled next to her on the couch.  
  
Twenty minutes later he furrowed his brow.  
  
"Why is she singing again?" he asked.  
  
"I think her father married her to that rich guy, but she wants the one with the flute, but he doesn't want a rich girl, so...or maybe she wants the flute?"  
  
"So why is she singing?"  
  
Buffy turned around to him and looked at him. "You've been staying with Xander way too long."  
  
"If it were for me, I'd be..." but the Slayer wasn't even listening anymore. Or maybe just pretending that she wasn't.  
  
Boring.  
  
Spike started fiddling. Just sitting and staring at the TV just wasn't his cup of tea. Unthinkingly his hands found his silver lighter in his jeans pocket.

ooooo

Click. Click. Click.  
  
Sitting very rigidly on the edge of the couch, as far away as possible from Spike, avoiding any accidental touching of any parts of her body with his, was in itself a very stressful way of spending the evening. And her body just didn't want to obey her. It felt as if every limb was straining to make contact with Spike. Her body probably remembered how good that other body had felt pressed against her, not too long ago.  
  
_That's a lot of bodies in one thought._  
  
Buffy sighed. Watching a movie that was completely beyond her only added to the stress, and the noise that Spike kept producing with the lighter was driving her crazy. She sneaked a glance over at him to see what exactly he was doing. Oh. Opening the lighter, lighting it and then extinguishing the flame by closing the lid of the lighter over it. Click. Click. Yep, driving her crazy.  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
Click.  
  
"Stop what, Slayer?"  
  
Another flick of the lighter, another click.  
  
"You know _exactly_ what I mean!" Buffy got a little louder. The whole tension that had accumulated during the evening seemed to be focused in that one little noise he kept making.  
  
Click.  
  
"Haven't the faintest," Spike replied coolly, yet again lighting a little flame and -  
  
"Argh," Buffy shouted and turned towards him to snatch away the offending gadget. But Spike had anticipated her move and was now holding the lighter in his right hand, stretching his arm as far as possible.  
  
"Stay away from my lighter, chit."  
  
Buffy was already scrambling to reach it. Pushing herself up on the couch, she stretched her left arm up to Spike's hand, using his shoulder as support with her right arm. She was vaguely aware of the fact that her boobs were pretty much on level with his face in this position, but before she could think about that any further, Spike dropped his shoulder. Just a little bit, but caught unawares she only just managed to finish her lunge for the lighter, but then lost her balance most ungracefully and toppled face down across his lap.  
  
Lying there, panting a little, she turned around and shoved the lighter under his nose.  
  
"There! Now you can see who's the Slayer in the house. Because that's me."  
  
Emphasizing her statement she flicked the lid open and lit it.  
  
"See, I've got the fire now!"  
  
Struggling a little to get up, she kept the lid open and the flame exposed  
  
"Uh, do you smell that? Something's smelly!"  
  
Spike looked down at himself.  
  
"It's me! I'm burning! Stupid fucking bint!"  
  
Panicked, Spike swatted at the flames erupting from his t-shirt. Buffy jumped away from him, tripping over the table.  
  
"Do something, do something!"  
  
Looking wildly around, her eyes finally found the bottle of Evian. Reaching for it, she straightened herself out and poured the water over the still swatting and swearing Spike. The flames sizzled into nothingness and all that was left was a very wet and fuming Spike.  
  
"You nearly killed me! Stupid f-"  
  
"So? Not so long ago you were begging me to do it!"  
  
They both paused, an uncomfortable silence settling between them. Spike looked at his t-shirt, but there wasn't much left of it. The skin underneath seemed to be pretty burnt as well; Buffy noticed how he tenderly tried to pry away the fabric from his skin. Judging from the grimaces he kept making, he was hurting. His hair was tousled, the water having ruined the slicked look he normally wore. If it weren't for the smell and the obvious pain, he'd look like a puppy left in the rain.  
  
Seeing him like that, Buffy felt a new, funny feeling spreading in her. She didn't want him to be hurt. For no sane reason she could think of she felt sorry for him. And sorry for doing that to him, for hurting him.  
  
"Spike, I - oh, look you ruined the couch!"

ooooo

Spike, busy with inspecting his wounds, heard the Slayer saying something. Wearily he looked up.  
  
"Spike, I -"  
  
Was she going to apologize? She sounded a little regretful. Now, that would be -  
  
" - you ruined the couch!"  
  
Spike bristled.  
  
"S'not ruined, it's wet. Besides you were the one who drenched it!"  
  
"Me? You burnt! I was saving you!"  
  
"You set me on fire you stupid bint..."  
  
He was interrupted by Buffy bursting out into laughter. Letting go of the bottle she actually held her tummy, shaking from laughter.  
  
"I did, didn't I?" she laughed, "Set you on fire?"  
  
Spike just looked at her. Seeing her laughing like that he tried to remember if he'd ever seen her that unguarded before. He didn't think so. He'd actually never seen her laughing before, with being mortal enemies and fighting to death and all. She was beautiful. Like a golden ball of light, a rainbow outshining the sun, her slender body glowing bright, mirth and - bloody hell, he was only inches away from rhyming!

ooooo

"Yeah, pet, you did..."  
  
Buffy was laughing so hard that she didn't really hear Spike's soft answer to her question.  
  
But somehow she noticed the mood changing. His eyes were fixed upon her, watching her, his gaze intense. As if he saw something beautiful, as if he wanted to promise her something, things that she couldn't even fathom but that seemed utterly desirable just from the way she could see them existing in his eyes.  
  
Her laughter died out and she felt as if the walls of her living room were slowly closing in on her, pressing her nearer to him. She needed to leave the room. Now.  
  
"You, you should probably get rid of that t-shirt and I, um, I'll get, I'll be right over..." stammering she fairly fled into the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, she leant against the kitchen island. Could she stay here forever? There was a fridge and a stove and water... Spike could have the rest of the house. Because being with him in one room? Turned out to be getting all complicated.  
  
She sighed again. Naw, she'd probably have to go back.  
  
_Only two more days to go, so what's the big deal, right?_  
  
Upon entering the living room again she saw Spike kneeling in front of the couch, ineffectively dabbing the wet spots with his t-shirt. His muscles rippled with the movement, the bones of his shoulder blades protruding from the canvas of his back. He was so white. She thought that even Angel's complexion had been a shade darker than that ivory white skin of Spike's.  
  
Hesitantly she stepped a little nearer, her arm outstretched, touching his shoulder.  
  
"Spike..."  
  
He whirled around, startled.  
  
Buffy gasped. Her hand flew up to her mouth, stifling a little scream. Angry red burn marks marred his skin all over his chest, blistering, looking really really really like they hurt. A lot.  
  
"Ohmygod, Spike, this is horrible! It was only a little lighter flame..." she stared at him.  
  
"Well, hello, vampire! We are prone to burning up easily. One of the many assets of unlife," he said, not really sounding that much bothered.  
  
"At least you should cool that or something...let me get some ice, wait..."  
  
Before she could run off again, she felt him closing his hand around her wrist, stopping her.  
  
"Don't, Buffy, I think I'll take a cold shower. Add some blood for dinner and I'll heal just right"  
  
Caught in his grip, she looked at him, letting her eyes travel down his body, past the burn marks, noting how truly low his jeans were riding on his narrow hips - Her gaze fell upon the bones that started somewhere above the hip and rode down in two lovely archs to point right to his penis. Suddenly she felt the fierce longing to travel the skin above those bones with her fingers, following their curve until she would hit the waistband of the jeans and then...  
  
"Slayer? Hello?"  
  
"Oh, right, um, yeah, shower. Shower would be good, I guess," she replied, turning away quickly, trying to hide her tomato red face.

* * *

Buffy paced the floor in front of the bathroom. How long could it take to take a shower?  
  
Since Spike had disappeared upstairs she had heated a cup of blood in the microwave for him, only half believing that she actually was getting all domesticated for him, but pleased to note that her ability to think straight seemed to increase proportionally to him not being in the same room. She'd watched the blood cool down again, tried to dry the couch, had not thought about Spike being naked in the shower, watched the end of the movie, definitely not thought about Spike being naked in the shower, and then finally decided to get some exercise by pacing outside the bathroom door.  
  
There, the water was finally turned off. Which meant that Spike would be leaving the bathroom. But she was right outside. Pacing. Ah, not good at all.  
  
She turned on her heels and made towards the stairs, but of course Spike chose exactly that moment to open the door. She only avoided smacking right into it by jumping sideways.  
  
Which distracted her not nearly long enough from Spike. Because the way he dared to leave the bathroom? Definitely a sight she needed to be distracted from. It had been hard enough before to remember that he was nothing more than a nuisance. Noticing that all thoughts of Parker had disappeared from her mind (along with all thoughts about Riley, but that she chose not to notice) since they had left the Bronze tonight, didn't really help with the remembering.  
  
And now here he was, freshly out of the shower, only a tiny little towel wrapped around his waist with a knot that looked perilously loose, his skin still glistening with little drops of water. Currently he was using a second towel to dry his hair, and with each upward movement of his arms the tiny little towel around his waist moved in a way that suggested - in a way that suggested -  
  
Buffy broke that thought off quickly and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Yet again Buffy found herself trying to find her composure. Angrily she grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing some paste on it.  
  
_Very smooth exit, Buffy. So very not obvious with the gaping. _  
  
Toothbrush still in her hand, she decided to face Spike again right now. Even if there was no special reason to.  
  
_Climbing right back on the horse. _  
  
Her eyes grew big. _Bad metaphor, bad metaphor! _

__ooooo  
  
Downstairs, Spike was climbing back into his jeans, grumbling because they were still wet. Remembering that the being wet had been part of a chain of events that had led to the Slayer's appreciative glance at his body, his growl turned into a smirk.  
  
He strolled into the kitchen, looking for his blood. Seeing the mug of lukewarm blood on the counter, he stopped in his tracks. It looked as if the Slayer was actually caring for him a little. As she well should after nearly toasting him. Still, it was kinda nice, this mug of blood.  
  
He turned as he heard Buffy stomping down the stairs, toothbrush still in her hand, her mouth adorned by a speck of paste that just begged to be swiped away by his index finger...  
  
"Spike, I'm going to crash...so, um, good night, I guess," she said very firmly. With a defiant glare, she viciously brushed her teeth at him. Weird bird, she was.  
  
"Yeah, but where?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Her determination evaporated, as if he'd said something that didn't make any sense at all.  
  
"Where will I sleep tonight?" he enunciated carefully. "The couch is sodden through."  
  
"Oh, I haven't thought about that." She pondered for a while. "Are you sure that it would bother you?"  
  
Spike managed to pout while growling menacingly at the same time. The effect painted a crooked smile on the Slayer's face and she relented to "Okay, it'll have to be the basement then."  
  
Before he could even protest, she had opened the door to the basement and gone downstairs.  
  
He followed her, but stopped on the last step. "Well, ain't it lovely?"  
  
The basement was stuffed with boxes of all sizes, some of them opened, packing material and weird dark African art objects spilling out of them. There were some really ugly masks that he thought he recognized from a few rituals Dru had dragged him to, some fertility gods and, at the far end of the basement, a whole box of coconuts. In addition to that there were crosses all over the place, axes lying around, scythes on the walls.  
  
Swallowing the last remains of toothpaste, Buffy said, "Whoops, I totally forgot that Mom uses the basement as storage for the gallery at the moment..."  
  
He just pointed at the crosses, raising an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Those are mine. We use it for Slayer supply storage as well."  
  
"And I'm supposed to sleep here?"  
  
She looked him almost apologetically, but shrugged, "The couch is sodden."  
  
Taking one deep breath, Spike gave in.  
  
"So where's my bed?"  
  
"Bed?"  
  
"Bed, cot, whatever. Someplace that is not the floor?"  
  
"Uhm...."

ooooo

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _  
  
She should have never listened to Xander. She knew it! There was no place for Spike to stay at her place. There was no place for Spike in her life. It only led to complications.  
  
She couldn't let him sleep in her mother's bed, that would be just wrong. The basement was full, the couch wet - which only left...  
  
What bothered her most wasn't the simple fact that she was considering the possibility of Spike sleeping in her room, nor that she was actually going to offer it to him in a minute, no, it was the fact that the thought of a night spent next to a shirtless Spike made her breath all hitchy and her knees go weak and made her think about how long ago she had last shaved and how her room looked right now and if she should clean up a little before - and those were all very bad thoughts. Nonetheless she heard herself say: "All right, you can sleep with me - in my room! I mean, you can sleep in my room. On the floor. This is where you will sleep."

* * *

In her room, Buffy and Spike stood in front of her bed. Buffy gnawed at her lower lip. One bed, one vampire and one Slayer.  
  
The situation reminded her of something, but with a little jerk of her head she shook the thought away and tried to focus on the present problem.  
  
"Look, Slayer, we're going to get all snuggly tonight," Spike said, pointing at the bed and taking a step closer to her, as if he wanted the snuggling to start right now.  
  
Buffy's fist shot forward and landed squarely on his nose.  
  
"There. Will. Be. No. Snuggling," she said, "you pig."  
  
Grabbing her pyjamas from underneath the covers, she turned towards the bathroom to get changed and called out to him over the shoulder, "You'll take the floor!"

ooooo

Holding his nose, Spike smirked.  
  
"We'll see," he said. He had absolutely no intention of sleeping at her feet on the floor, when there was a perfectly comfy bed.  
  
A perfectly comfy bed with the Slayer in it.  
  
Alone the thought of her, changing in the room next door, shimmying out of those tight leather pants, probably twisting her hips in every which direction in order to get them off - Spike suddenly realized that his jeans were uncomfortably tight.  
  
No use in denying it - the Slayer was getting him all hot and bothered tonight. Sex and violence and danger and beauty. And something else that he couldn't quite place. He had never thought of her like that before, but then he had always been too busy planning her destruction. Tonight it wasn't her downfall that he had in mind. Or maybe it was, in a way...  
  
He was interrupted in his thoughts by Buffy, who returned to the room, carrying a blanket that she threw at Spike. She was all business again, the playfulness of earlier evaporated. No word was uttered.  
  
Rolling his eyes he took the blanket and lay down on the floor. It wouldn't be for long, he hoped.  
  
Buffy checked with a glance down that he was behaving and then went to the window, drew the curtains close and checked if any light still came through. Tugging at the curtains a little here and there, she finally seemed to be satisfied and climbed into bed.  
  
Spike was oddly touched by her actions. The way she had been checking the curtains? It really looked as if she was making sure that in the morning the room would be protected from sunlight. Protecting him from burning some more? That didn't fit in with the nose punch he had collected, but it certainly looked like it. It confused him in ways he didn't want to think about.

ooooo

Lying in bed, Buffy tried to calm her rapidly beating heart, taking long, shallow breaths that she hoped Spike wouldn't hear. Although, with the vampire super hearing there wasn't much of a chance of hiding things like that.  
  
He had been oddly compliant when she had thrust the blanket at him, lying down on the floor without so much as a single word of protest.  
  
And now that she was in bed, everything in her seemed to be focused on the vampire beneath her. Raising her head slightly, she sneaked a peek at him.  
  
He had only covered his legs with the blanket, and although it was really dark in her room, she could make out his topless torso, his white skin nearly glowing. She could even make out the darker spots of the burn marks. She hadn't really looked before, but she thought that she had seen in the basement that they looked a lot better than right after the accident. She still felt a little bad about that. Not about the nose punching though, Spike really was a pig and if he thought that they...  
  
At that moment he shifted a little and Buffy quickly ducked her head. God, he had really beautiful abs.  
  
Closing her eyes, she decided that sleeping, now, was the best thing to do.  
  
_No thinking, sleeping. Avoidy is me. _  
  
She was already drifting away, when a low, soft moan invaded her thoughts. Like someone was hurt.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered.  
  
"'S nothing, pet, just hurt the burns a little. Floor is pretty hard."  
  
Still not fully awake she felt bad for him. Wounded, and sleeping on the floor and all her fault, kinda.  
  
"Oh, all right, you baby, come up, then," she said.  
  
As she moved to the side to make room for the vampire, a tiny voice in her head tried to tell her that that was probably a really really bad idea that she would regret in the morning, but she was way too tired to listen to tiny voices.

oooooo

Spike smiled. It had been a good plan to wait until the Slayer was nearly asleep. Taking his blanket he climbed in next to her, careful not to spoil the moment by touching her.  
  
It took them a while to get comfortable next to each other, lots of tossing and turning for about fifteen minutes, but finally they were both lying on their backs, a clear demarcation in the middle of the bed.  
  
Hours later, when Spike finally was sure that the Slayer was asleep, he cautiously touched her biceps. No reaction. Closing his eyes he let his fingers wander up and down the length of her arm, drinking in the smoothness of her skin, warm and alive and very different from the cold vampire flesh he was used to. Carefully, ever so carefully, he started to trace her profile with his index finger, not really touching her, but very very close. As he reached her lips, he paused for a second and nearly cried out in surprise as Buffy opened her lips and ever so slightly softly placed a kiss on the tip of his finger. She seemed to be fast asleep, though.  
  
He smiled, and decided now would be as a good time as ever to die.  
  
He bent over and brushed her lips with his, only just grazing them. The Slayer only smiled in her sleep and turned onto her side, snuggling closer to him. Feeling her body spooned up against his, her warm butt against his cold skin, he realized that he was content for the first time since he got the chip. Or maybe even since Dru had left him. Relaxing, he decided that this would be just the beginning. If he didn't bollocks things up with his impatience, this was going to be one hell of a weekend.

ooooo

Buffy smiled as she felt Spike relax against her back. Tonight, now, she would pretend to be asleep. She could be the Slayer tomorrow.  
  
-End- 


End file.
